My reflection in the mirror when I would be 89!

When I look at the mirror I see gloomy yellowing eyes covered by thick black glasses, replacing the rimless glasses of the years that have passed by. They were white and shinning and full of hope when I was younger. A fat, melancholic face framed preciously by drooping eyebrows and defeated lips that once threw snappy phrases. I am not bald, or even balding, but now the hair on my head is extravagantly spaced. I had once sported curly disheveled hair and gained an almost professional air with it. The hairs grayed and became extravagantly spaced with time. The shriveled skin of my face now glistens with sweat from the midday heat. Bare chest with a thick white thread running across the body, would give up my religious identity of being a Hindu. Crisp white Pajama on my lower part of the body would establish my identity as a Bengali. This appearance of mine would not reveal what socio-economic background I come from or what are my tastes and education. You have to look at the table at my side that has the book “The sly company of people who care” on it. At my feet you would find a Persian carpet, the fruits of my penance.